


too busy being yours

by primaveril



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveril/pseuds/primaveril
Summary: renjun is in love with jaemin. jaemin is in love, too ― with jeno.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	too busy being yours

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in an hour after listening to arctic monkey’s “do i wanna know” hihi sorry if it’s not good  
> disclaimer: i suck at writing angst ! i can’t live without a happy ending, so i chose an ambiguous one instead :D  
> enjoy!

Renjun swallows thickly. Breathes in the crisp night air. It’s supposed to help him, it’s supposed to help calm down the turmoil right at the sides of his stomach where butterflies are crawling up like maggots, but instead it brings in his chic cologne along with the oxygen and suddenly Renjun feels like choking, withering away quietly under the stars.

He’s sure Jaemin is talking right now in that smooth voice of his, the edges a little rough from the wine, a sound that always tastes like ice cream and caramel syrup, but he’s too busy thinking, picking at the edges of his sweater, wondering if he should really be here, if he should be sitting under the twinkling stars with the boy he’s been in love with ever since they met, if he should be thinking about kissing his neck and whispering his love letters against his soft brown hair. Even worse - he’s sure Jaemin is talking about Jeno now, if the way his voice goes a little deeper and a little dreamier is anything to go by, which makes the guilt cut even deeper into Renjun’s core.

Something inside him tells it’s better like this: just being his friend, allowed to be close to him, watching powerlessly as Jeno makes Jaemin smile as bright as he is right now, only allowed to watch as Jaemin’s eyes light up when Jeno touches him or simply exists, all smiles and gentle voice. He doesn’t want to risk losing what they have, doesn’t want to make Jaemin feel bad for not returning his feelings; change is specially terrifying when it involves people you hold so dearly in your heart. He feels like a coward, he feels like he’s running away from the problem, but there’s not much to do, not when Jaemin is clearly head over heels for Jeno Lee.

Sometimes, though, it’s too hard. Sometimes pretending Jaemin doesn’t affect him costs so much energy Renjun feels hollow after, acting like his palms aren’t sweaty and like vines aren’t wrapping around his heart and squeezing it so tight he’s breathless. Sometimes he runs -  _ has to _ \- and hides beneath his covers, just to cry his worries out until his throat is raw and his face puffy, muffling his pitiful sobs against his curled fist, swallowing down the urge to run away and try to forget Jaemin and his sweet eyes, Jaemin and his blinding smile, Jaemin and his big, gentle heart that never seems to run out of affection and love for everyone he meets. It’s cruel how the Universe put him in Renjun’s life just to make him unreachable, sadistic how It handpicked the most perfect person and dangled him in front of Renjun’s face like a cat’s toy, close enough to watch and taste and love but not close enough to have him, touch him like Renjun desperately wants to.

He’s so exhausted.

Jaemin is still speaking, spurred on by Renjun’s occasional hums and grunts, and he’s bathed in nothing but the silver moon and the buttery light from their campfire, hair all tousled by the wind, eyes droopy and tired, lightly pink from the wine, and he looks  _ ethereal _ . Renjun carefully maps the slope of his nose and the high planes of his cheekbones, the dip of his cheeks and the curve of his lips, and he’s breathless and he’s in love and his chest  _ hurts _ , it hurts  _ so much _ but he can’t say or do anything. He wants to place his hands in the curve of his neck and feel the softness of Jaemin’s hair right under his fingertips, he wants to kiss the bone peeking behind the collar of his shirt, he wants to curl against Jaemin’s chest and breathe in the cologne that has been plaguing his nose for the past hour or so, he wants all the skin and all the lips and all the warmth he can get, as selfish as it sounds. It’s insane how perfect he is, from his appearance to his voice to his personality, and it’s even crazier how Renjun can’t have any of it. His mouth tastes bitter.

He takes a sip of cider, eyes stuck on the orange flames writhing in the cold night breeze. He should really give up. He should go back to China, where he’ll find someone and settle down and forget about any kind brown eyes and any deep voice and any broad shoulders. Maybe he’ll fall in love again, just as madly and as obsessively. Maybe he’ll move on.

A gentle brush on his shoulder snatches his attention. “Doing okay over there? You’re too quiet.”

There’s a small smile on Jaemin’s face, pearly white teeth and blush-pink lips, and Renjun’s tongue is stuck somewhere down his throat for a second. He shakes his head.

“I’m fine, just a little tired. It’s late,” it’s not a lie, the moon is definitely sliding off the highest point and the wind grows colder by the minute, but his head is so full of thoughts he has no hopes of getting sleep tonight. The other hums in agreement.

“Do you want to pack up and go home? I’ll drive you.”

Renjun stays silent for a few seconds. He looks at the worn-out red gingham fabric stretched on the cold grass, he looks at the half-empty bottle of wine, he looks at the strawberries and the cheese and the hibernating laptop between them, and he wonders for the millionth time just what in the hell are they doing. It’s so easy to do whatever Jaemin wants: it’s easy to accept a picnic under the moonlight or getting tipsy on a saturday night when Jaemin asks him with that syrupy voice of his, even though Renjun knows how wrong it is, how much it feels like he’s being led on. He wonders if Jeno knows about all of this, guilt wrapping around his neck like a noose. He wants to stop thinking. 

Finally, he nods. “Let’s clean up. I have work to finish.”

Jaemin closes his laptop haphazardly. “Nope, mister. You will get home and sleep for at least nine hours. Understood?”

And Renjun is weak, he’s so weak, so he giggles. “Okay, okay.”

They work through murmured conversations, little nothings moving the late night air, and it feels like they’re the only ones alive in that moment, alone in a quiet planet that lulls them to sleep oh-so-gently. In moments like these it’s when Renjun loves Jaemin the most: he fits well with the chinese boy, he matches everything and completes every sentence, they know exactly what to say and what reaction it’ll bring out, and it feels so comfortable, so  _ right _ , like they’ve been made to do this. He never thought it’d be possible to click so well with someone, but Jaemin proved him wrong, and Renjun is grateful for that, as masochistic as it feels sometimes.

The car is warm, and the radio is playing old soothing songs with words that Renjun can’t understand but sound just as bittersweet as him.

They’re a little far from Renjun’s apartment, so Jaemin gently taps his thigh. “You can take a nap, okay? I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

He’s not sleepy at all, but he hums and cuddles into the seat, looking out of the window. There’s not much to see, little houses and tiny shops turning into supermarkets and tall buildings, the rumbling of the engine and the melodies pacifying his troubled mind. Everything smells like Jaemin, his deep woody scent, little notes of sweet tangerine and coconut here and there, unique and comfortable and that make Renjun feel strangely safe. Somewhere between wakefulness and shallow sleep, Renjun feels Jaemin’s big hand settling on his thigh - it’s almost like a fever dream, something he can’t really grasp but feels either way, soft and warm and fuzzy, and he’s engulfed by gentle darkness not a second later.

When he’s jostled awake, eyelids too heavy for his own face, the only thing left of the touch is the shy heat right where his palm once was, cooling slowly. He’s too sleepy to pay any attention to it, though, only tumbling out of the car and trudging towards the front door, running away from the boy he loves. 

“Hey,” Jaemin’s voice is quiet enough not to disturb his neighbors, but it still sounds loud in the quiet night. Renjun sighs - he just wants to get inside his covers and nap and pin after him and maybe cry a little, please. He turns towards the voice.

There’s a moment of hesitation, stilted and electric as Jaemin swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, eyes fleeing from Renjun’s tiny figure for a moment before coming back. With one hand in the steering wheel and that dazed, blushy look, he’s almost too much to stare directly at.

“Hey,” Renjun echoes, impatient and a bit nervous. He feels trapped between the door and Jaemin’s eyes, and he wants to disappear but every fiber of his being says  _ stay, please _ . He’s sure he’s going insane at this point, emotions conflicting more than agreeing, but it’s not even a surprise anymore. 

Jaemin bites his lip and smiles, slowly and delicately, eyes crinkling in the corners and  _ God _ , they’re  _ shining _ , they’re shining brighter than the full moon and all the stars in the Universe, and Renjun hurts all over, gripping his house keys so hard his palms hurt. 

A sigh, and in the most tender voice: “Good night, Jun.”

Lying awake in bed, Renjun still has no idea what to do with his pounding heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i really hope you liked this little word vomit! renjunnie i love you so much also norenmin >>  
> leave a kudo or a comment if possible! helps a lot ♡  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/pyuhc) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/dawnfruits)  
> 


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